IXRebellious Type
It was hard not to notice that
Misty’s appearance in became a spectacle, a rare occasion for
everyone involved. He was constantly visited; by students, scientists, trainees
and even cleaning staff. Some wanted to get acquainted, some wanted to test him
or talk for a while. Some remembered him from his creation and some was curious
about the accident. He felt drained like a celebrity and the dullness of these
talks made him sleepy.
The questions were repeated so many
times, that he began to recite answers like a chant. His behavior disappointed
him deeply. He liked people, he liked talking and social interactions. But
there were so many of them, that it was inevitable they all became blurred in
one monotonous monologue, in which he summarized the events of last weeks.
“Dorkins, please take me out,” Misty
leaned over the glass window, trying to ignore the humming in his ears.
“You said that you have light-out
hours now, right? So you can rest now.”
The drone’s voice was familiar and
sounded close through the ear buds.
“It’s no use, it’ll be the same from
tomorrow,” sighed Misty, looking at the center from above.
It was an open space building, with
several rows of rooms accessible by platforms. Every robot was being kept in a
small room with glass wall, turned to the main giant corridor. Misty tried to
avoid of thinking about cells, but this word lingered in the air. They were
informed that they are free to walk around the facility. Within day hours, of
course. And it was true, Misty wandered a lot, meeting new robots and humans
every day.
“Your voice sounds funny, do you use
ear pods?” asked Dorkins with curiosity.
“Yes, you’re sharp as ever, Dorkins.
They walls of our rooms disconnect direct communication, you have to use
external devices though the Ground.”
“Are they afraid of rebellion or
what?” Dorkins chuckled.
“I think so. But most robots are too
bored here to rebel. Most of them are tired of waiting for their spare parts,”
answered Misty sleepily. “Some stay at stand-by mode all day long.”
“I know, I have a few friends here,”
said Dorkins. “They say it takes a lot of time to have a spare part designed,
printed and connected, because the process is purely handmade, no robot is
allowed to help. Security reasons.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been
collecting spare parts from black market for such a long time!”
The presence of parcels in Dorkins’
and Misty’s wagon was now fully justified.
“But I know it’s not your case,”
said Dorkins slowly, with perfectly balance dose of carefulness. "What did the
experts tell you today?”
“It’s challenging to find here
anyone competent,” Misty winced. “For example, there was man who tested me in
the morning, but he made an error and the results weren’t synchronized
correctly. So at the evening they did everything once again, although I told
them the final results and conclusions. So they wasted four hours in total on
nothing.”
“But what about your hand?”
Misty raised his right arm and
looked at cables secured with black tape. Tylph crushed his right hand in his
giant jaw. The scientists unscrewed the steel parts from the wrist and secured
the cables. Misty knew that they were analyzing the damages in the laboratory,
but he didn’t felt any hope. They were too unorganized to come up with
something brilliant that would save his hand.
“They say that they can copy my left
hand and mirror it. But since I’m a robot, it won’t be possible for me to learn
how to use it as a right hand. My right hand was created as a dominant hand.”
“It’s a bit strange, why didn’t they
just make you two identical hands, equally skillful?” wondered Dorkins. “Everyone
know that you’re a robot, it’s really to use to pretend overwise.”
“It’s connected with the brain,”
Misty stretched his left hand, slightly comforted by its presence. “My creators
feared that strong impulses in both hemispheres would be overwhelming. Or maybe
they wanted to test if I am able to improve left hand on my own. Cut to the
chase, I couldn’t.”
“I must recharge now,” buzzed the
drone. “Call me tomorrow, when you have time. I’ve heard that dr Jannoby wants
to see you. Director plans to sue him for your damages so don’t be too polite,
all right? Play it cool.”
“As always.”
Misty fell into silence fulled with
soft noises. He was expecting doctor Jannoby for three days. It was inevitable
that he must come and deliver his version of the accident. Misty felt uneasy at
the very thought of it. It would be so much different if he was employed, even
as a fortune-teller. Then Director could sue dr Jannoby on the base of Robotic
Employment Code. But what to do now? He was just a machine leased by New Modern
World that got damaged before being assigned to new duties. So far, Misty has never
felt so useless. With a deep sigh, he went to stand-by mode to speed up the
time.
When he woke up the next day, the
weather was better. The morning sun shone on the inner patio through the oval
windows behind. Some employes were chatting on the suede sofas, their faces too
far to distinguish.
“Good morning, Misty.”
Misty turned his head and saw Shiny
standing beside him. How long has she been standing there? She must have been
waiting for him to wake up.
“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I was
recharging.”
“I know,” she pointed at the
progress icons, blinking now with green light. “No problem. I’ve brought you
the new issue of .”
She handed Misty the magazine with a
bit of pink color on her interface. The front cover presented roots highlighted
in neon light and a headline: .
“Oh, thank you,” said Misty, trying
to sound pleasantly surprised.
“There is an article about Boardman
inside, I thought you might find it interesting.”
He flipped the pages to find an
image of an android holding a dice. The robot has three fingers and he looked...
bored?
“He adjusts his intelligence to
another player, so he’s very controversial,” explained Shiny. “There is a waiting
list to play a game with him, you have to wait three years.
planned to produce him on a massive scale, but there were too many protests.”
“I don’t get it, this issue promotes
the Ground and criticize physical robots at the same time?” Misty considered
this inconsistency for a moment.
Most opponents of robot development
were against the Ground and its overwhelming presence. Other types of robots
and especially androids were considered as helpers for humans, especially after
the progress in expressing their emotions.
“Well, as a
newspaper is connected to the Ground founders. And they like to present a few
points of view to be objective.”
“He looks bored,” observed Misty,
closing the newspaper. “They should focus on his mimics more. He shouldn’t look
like that, not with his name.”
“Oh, but he is bored. I met him once
during testing. He said that most humans are stupid, so it’s humiliating for
him to adjust. But he was polite to me.”
For some reason, Misty didn’t want
to discuss a robot who finds people stupid. But what should he talk about with
Shiny? There wasn’t anything else related to the circus or work. Misty
considered this challenge for a while and then cut the uncomfortable silence.
“Can you show me here around? I was
wondering where you were assembled. You see, my original department was
resolved many years ago.”
“Of course,” suddenly Shiny seemed a
bit nervous.
Was his request too blunt? To be
honest, Misty was surprised that nobody asked him about Shiny or his work. As
if he was just a broken robot. No history, no glorious past. Just a problem
with torn cables.
Shiny led him through passages of glass
and framed flora on the wall. It was a strange mixture and Misty found it a bit
disturbing. How the plants are expected to live on this cool, artificial light?
Do they throw away all plants that didn’t survive?
Shiny stopped by department H,
called as Houston. It was famous for many robot types, most of them designed
for welfare organizations. The interior was buzzing with people, their shapes
vague through the frosted glass by the door.
“I must tell you something,”
whispered Shiny. “They haven’t read your reports,” whispered Shiny suddenly. “Only
I did. And it was me who sent them to dr Kazatsky in company’s envelope. And I
replied to your letters, using names of the employees. I’m sorry. I... just
didn’t want you to stop your research.”
Misty saw his reflection in a glass
door. They polished his parts and aligned bent cables. He looked better than
before but for a missing hand. But did he feel better or worse? Was he
deceived? By whom? By these employees in navy-blue uniforms that run tests
according to their firm procedures? He saw in the reflection that Shiny looked
sad, with a blue glow.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Don’t you worry,” he turned to her.
“I would have written my reports anyway, even if only for me. It’s their loss,
really.”
He walked through the door,
determined to focus on Shiny. She was the new one but for some reason, he found
her familiar, as if she was constructed in his times. Long time ago, when his
creators crafted his hands on a messy table, between dirty mugs with coffee
grounds. Nowadays, the scientists have glossy resin surfaces at their disposal
and coffee machines with self-refilling capsules.
For the next hour, Misty learnt more
about SmartTouch robots than he would have imagined. The process was entirely
different and resembled more puzzle solving than manufacturing. Many parts were
used for different kinds of robots, every with its identification number and
assigned wireframe. The robot felt a bit overwhelmed, but curious at the same
time. The scientists seemed to like their work, so they answered his questions
eagerly.
When the sightseeing was over, Misty
suggested Shiny trying holographic coffees in the centre, but to his surprise,
she declined. She was unusually quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Misty found a quiet
place by the window. “Please just tell me.”
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea,”
told him Shiny and her expression was blank.
She turned off her facial features
so only eyes were visible, without the usual glows. They seem smaller and pale.
Misty felt confused and tried to remember all he told her from the waking up.
There wasn’t anything usual, apart from his idea of visiting her assembly line.
“Listen, I think that our plans
doesn’t match with each other,” she told firmly.
Misty understood at once that he
must be cautious. The talk wasn’t about drinking coffee, it was about something
deeper and darker.
“I’d like to spend more time with
you,” said Misty after another stretch of uncomfortable silence.
“Why?”
“I’d like to know you better, you’re
really smart and it fascinates me.”
It was a wrong word, he knew it at
once. He shouldn’t have called her smart. It was probably the worst word to use
in this situation.
“You’re a retro robot,” she said.
“You saw how I was made, it wasn’t anything special. When I was launched, there
were twenty robots assembled the same day.”
“It doesn’t matter, really. There
are thousands humans being born every day, but they celebrate their birthday.
And everyone finds it special.”
“I’m not feeling special now,
Misty,” she said. “Look, I cannot even climb the stairs. I have to call for
help any time I want to enter some wagons. You’re all saying that I’m so
advanced and good with human interactions, but well… most robots can do it now.”
If she said the truth, that Director
assembled all types of outdated robots in his circus, Misty wouldn’t mind.
Because that was the truth and one of the reasons of its popularity. There were
some words to describe it in a better manner: , or even
But that were only words with the same meaning.
“I know I’m the old type,” said
Misty. “But I’m really trying to match.”
“That’s the problem. You have to
try. I know you have feelings, you have friends and humans that you don’t like.
Just give me some time. I… think I've idolized you in some way.”
That was it? Some kind of immature
obsession? Are modern robots able to process these emotions? Misty had no idea
how to respond to that. So he just nodded and watched her sliding through the
green corridor. It was most probably the way to ecological lines, judging from the
green light bulbs. Should he follow her? No, she set some boundaries and he
should respect it, even if he had no idea how to fix it. Or if it was anything
to fix.
“Misty, I’ve finally found you!”
He turned around and saw a familiar
figure. Doctor Jannoby was exhausted, as if he was running. “Could we talk for
a moment?”
“I think so,” answered Misty slowly,
trying to focus and switch his attention to this annoying human.
“I just wanted to apologize,” doctor
Jannoby sat on the bench by the window. "I was in hurry to run these tests
with Tylph, I shouldn’t have turned on the wild mode so quickly.”
Hurry. Rush. Traffic jams. Misty
leaned on the wall, waiting for another excuses. He didn’t want to judge
whether they were justified or not. Humans used excuses when they made
mistakes. Misty wanted no excuses for himself, he must examine every minute spent
with Shiny and find out what went wrong.
“I’ve read about you,” said doctor
Jannoby after the while. “I had no idea that you were... so special. Your
creators made only you and Pianist. I’m a bit surprised that of the outcome and
that they stopped this project. It was really something amazing, this
technology could have helped so many people!”
“It demanded too many resources,”
said Misty coldly. “It was time-consuming and difficult to perform. I thought
you preferred simpler models, doctor Jannoby.”
For a second, doctor looked at him
surprised.
“Oh yes, all that talk about
emotions,” he looked at the floor, as searching for answers. His glasses fell
down on his nose, so he lifted them automatically. “I think we started on the
wrong foot, Misty,” he looked up and there was something strange in his eyes.
Curiosity. Hunger of knowledge. He
wasn’t the same scientist, exhausted with impossible tasks and overrun tests.
Misty saw a glimpse of his past, of energy waiting to act.
“In fact, you are exactly the types
of robots that I prefer,” admitted dr Jannoby. “Even with this emotional part.
You’re perfectly balanced, with no records of depression periods and serious
damages. And you were clever enough to avoid all actualizations, so your inner
core remained stable and intact.”
“You don’t have to praise me, doctor
Jannoby,” answered Misty with a mild smile. “We all know what happened and what
will happen next. I am unique and clever enough to know that my repair would
need more than insurance.”
“You can sue me, it’s not my first
case,” doctor Jannoby waved his hand. “I can lose it, it doesn’t matter. I don’t
care for money. We can make it amicable, I will admit everything. I just want
to know you better.”
“Excuse me?” Misty raised his
eyebrow in astonishment.
“That’s it!” doctor Jannoby looked
at him frantically. “Your emotions are so perfectly shown, they are
asymmetrical so they appear to be organic!”
He took out his HoloPad and began to
write. Misty was surprised to see a pen in his hands. Doctor Jannoby didn’t looked
like a fan of handwriting. There were many other hobbies for humans that didn’t require
special courses and time to practice. Misty considered him to be impatient.
Should he change his assessment? The doctor’s handwriting was elegant and with
some kind of style.
“You must be wondering what’s in for
you, why I took my interest in you,” said doctor after the while.
“No, I don’t.”
It was easy to be ironic with
enthusiastic people, so focused on their thoughts that they took no notice of
the situation. For a second, Misty forgot Shiny and it was probably a good
thing. At least for now.
“I’m working on a new project,”
doctor Jannoby whispered towards his notes suddenly. “It’s about emotions. I
think that people did the wrong thing by copying their emotions to robots. It’s
a burden. All these expectations, all these trials to understand each other… I
want to fix it. What do you think?”
“Well, I wish you all the best,
sir,” Misty bowed his head a little, wondering how to end this strange
conversation.
Should he just walk away through the
corridor with green light? It was a nice background for departures.
“I want to strike a deal with you,”
doctor Jannoby looked up again. “I will help you and you will help me.”
“You want to test me, right?” Misty
squinted his eyes.
“Well, within your permission, of
course. But I am more interested in your opinions and experience. I’ve spent
last three days reading your reports and I think you will be a perfect partner
in my work. As you are for Director.”
Was he mocking him? Misty couldn’t
understand the underlying motives and intentions of this hunched man with
falling glasses.
“I am not a great helper now,” Misty raised
the stump on his arm.
Doctor Jannoby considered him for a
moment.
“You have no clue, haven’t you?” he
laughed suddenly. “Do you really think that using hands is your priority skill?
Fascinating,” he put that in writing. “I thought you were able to assess
yourself properly. However, I think that you are being understated here,” he
lowered his voice. “I would put you under observation here, just in case.”
“You consider me to be a rebellious
type?” asked Misty amused by this possibility.
“I know that you were designed as a
household robot, but I find you too clever for that.”
“It isn’t that simple, you can try
to teach a kid how to iron or how to separate wash clothes,” answered Misty,
but he knew that doctor was right.
It was annoying. As if he found a
human more intelligent and perceptive than the others.
“Don’t’ bother,” smiled doctor
Jannoby. “I won’t investigate it. And I won’t investigate why your friend knew
how to shoot from the portable launcher. Shoot well, I must admit. Although, it
would be hard to cover it before the judge.”
“Are you blackmailing me?” Misty
decided to speak more openly.
He analysed the situation quickly.
It was a real threat for the Circus. Their reputation would be tarnished. How
can they allow a robot who can shoot to work with people?
“No, no, I wouldn’t dare,” answered
doctor Jannoby instantly. “I stated in the reports that I shot Tylph and
advised Director to do the same. It was my fault of neglecting the security
procedures. I don’t want another robot to suffer because of my airiness.
Beides, I don’t find your friend dangerous, even with his memory intact. He just
have to keep pretending that his past
was deleted completely, just like it was stated in his files. As I was saying,
I want to help you. I don’t like following I have an idea how to fix your hand. And it
won’t be copying,” he looked around in disgust at white walls and frosted
glasses.
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s simple. We’ll scan the right
and left hand of Pianist,” doctor began to gesture, animated by his idea. “Then
we will compare his left hand with your hand to find any changes to the
original project. I want to establish the personal changes that you’ve
developed through the years. And then we’ll create a model of the right hand
that will incorporate these changes. In this way, you’ll have a hand that will
be more customized, not just a copy. And it would be a great chance to create
similar models for people in need. Disabled or after accidents.”
“It will cost a lot of time and
money,” observed Misty. “Pianist is busy, he prepares for a tournee, he
promotes his new album. And I’m afraid I haven’t developed many personal
changes since the beginning of my work.”
The idea wasn’t a bad one, but all
sounded a bit unrealistic. And he didn’t feel like spending more time with
doctor Jannoby.
“I have a hunch that he would help.
He spoke of you very fondly in his autobiography,” said doctor Jannoby, placing
his glasses on the nose. “It’s just an idea, you can think it over and discuss
with your partner and the board.”
“Partner?” asked Misty. Was he
talking about Shiny? Is this how people perceive their relationship? Was that
the core of the problem?
“Well, you’re a vice-director of The
Circus of Whirling Gears, aren’t you?” doctor Jannoby sounded more annoyed,
more like himself. “I know that you have to discuss it over and over again and
check the totals,” he sighed deeply, as he was allergic to company meetings.
“Just let me know,” doctor stood up and put the HoloPad in his pocket. “And
give my regards to Shiny. You’re her protype, right?”
“Please don’t use his word, it makes
me feel old,” answered Misty automatically.
“Yes, you’re definitely a dangerous
type if you know how to joke,” laughed doctor Jannoby. “I hope I won’t be in
your black books, mister Misty. It’d be a shame not to have a chance to know
you better.”
